


The Little Templar Girl

by YsanneIsard



Category: The Secret World
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 19:11:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17392049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YsanneIsard/pseuds/YsanneIsard
Summary: A minor Templar agent, having finished a minor undercover mission, meets the legendary operative of an enemy faction.





	The Little Templar Girl

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The protagonist is rather not the Templar player character in the MMORPG, but some random minor agent who has just recently begun to climb the Templar ranks; she is even not a bee. However, as it's intended for the reader to imagine themself in her place, same as it is in the MMORPG, I had put the Templar Character in the tags.  
> 2\. This is the first part of what I once intended to be a PWP fic about my Templar girl and my favorite Secret World character (guess who he is))) - unfortunately, the draft kept staying nothing more than a draft hidden deep on my FB page for years, so finally I decided to post it as is, for it makes a nice vignette story. Still, the plan of that PWP scene is still in my mind, and I might write it one day. So: this chapter is rated "Mature" because of the used language, but if I ever write the second one, the fanfic will immediately become "Explicit content" ^_^

She couldn't believe her eyes. Him, of all the people - and here, of all the places. No way she could meet this man at a mediocre lounge bar of a mediocre Tahitian "grand hotel". Not the night she was taking her time enjoying a Mai Tai after her successful mission. Is it... not a coincidence? But this man's a fucking legend. Best of the best, or so they say. And her mission was so small and unimportant, hardly of any interest to other parties - even to his people. No, it can't be him. But he looks so familiar...

She finally managed to avert her eyes and demonstrate being utterly preoccupied with her drink. But not before meeting his probing gaze.

He left his chair and went over to her, bringing his whiskey glass along.

-May I, luv? - ah, that voice she recalled too well from the vision, the deep manly baritone. Strangely, his uncouth Northern English made it sexier still.

-Sure, this place is public. - she made an automatic smile, the kind that follows one's inner decision "I must act naturally". This close encounter was disturbing her too much. But he can't know her and her agenda - and he must be here on holiday. Yes, why can't he be on holiday?

-Aw, you're English? Always such a pleasure to meet a compatriot among these wild tribes.

She uttered a nervous giggle.

-So what brings you to this strange land, miss... - ah. May I ask you for your name?

For some weird reason she decided to give neither her real name nor the one she was travelling under at the moment.

-It's Emma. Emma W-w, - nope, Emma Woodhouse is too blunt, moreover, he's British, he might notice, - W-whi-te.

-Whi-te like White or like Wyatt?

-Wyatt. Emma Wyatt. - She chose fast, not to seem suspicious, while offering her hand to be shaken. - And you're mister...

-McCall. - His grasp was firm yet careful. - But please, call me Alex. All my friends do.


End file.
